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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27950471">The Day After Tomorrow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_meagher/pseuds/m_meagher'>m_meagher</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The West Wing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Inauguration, Post-Series, S7E22 Tomorrow, Santos Administration, The West Wing - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:49:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>759</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27950471</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_meagher/pseuds/m_meagher</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Donna reflects on the events of President Santos' inaugural ball and how it felt to be romantic with Josh in public after years of hiding her affection. Set about 24 hours after the closing scene of the series finale "Tomorrow."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Josh Lyman/Donna Moss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Day After Tomorrow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Am I just dreaming?  </em>
</p><p>Donna Moss scrunched her eyelids until the pressure began to make her forehead throb. But in case it was a dream, she would relish the fantasy as long as possible. It’s not like she was unfamiliar with the spectacle of Inauguration Day. As a junior staffer in both terms of the Bartlet administration, Donna knew what to expect from a White House ceremony.  </p><p>This time was different though—and no matter how many of these events she might attend in the future, Donna swore she would never acclimate to walking into an exclusive D.C. ballroom on the arm of Josh Lyman. If last night was a product of the subconscious, then Donna had to salute her own imagination. All the adjectives she could think of: perfect, dazzling, extraordinary, sublime—each one of them fell short.  </p><p>Of course, this was not the first inaugural affair seared in Donna’s memory. Four years prior, Josh had somehow corralled Toby Ziegler, Charlie Young, Danny Concannon and Will Bailey into pelting snowballs at her window. Then once she scurried outside to halt the rampage, he came about as close to a declaration of love as Joshua Lyman knew how to express.</p><p>“You look amazing.” Five syllables. Three words. One sentence she would not soon forget. </p><p>The two of them had clung to each other on the dance floor—as much as they could in the bounds of professionalism, at least. He with those debonair coat tails and she with the soft blonde curls, they were quite a pair back then. Donna felt her lips twitch at the reverie. But this paled in comparison to the wish fulfillment of last night.  </p><p>Of the brazen, territorial, unapologetic claims they staked on one another despite whoever else was in the room. Josh’s firm, secure hand placement on Donna’s waist. Her profile flush against his chest and their hips both undulating in rhythm to the music. The inebriated kisses they stole in the corner like just a couple of teenagers with stars in their eyes. And the voracious, primal love they made at 3AM in Josh’s bedroom. <em>Please tell me this is real. But if it’s a dream, then I refuse to wake up. </em></p><p><span class="TextRun SCXW113648364 BCX0"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW113648364 BCX0">“So answer me this, </span><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW113648364 BCX0">Donnatella</span><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW113648364 BCX0">. Has anyone warned you not to outshine the First Lady at an inaugural ball?” A voice that was equal parts drowsy and devilish shook Donna out of her trance. Her eyes fluttered open, and the ghost of a blush painted her cheekbones. It was not another illusion from all those years of pining. It happened—the affectionate touches, the insatiable kisses, the feverish sex. This was part of her life now, and Donna had no complaints. She tossed on her side to face the man she would stop at nothing to reach...not even red lights.   </span></span>   </p><p><span class="TextRun SCXW122679105 BCX0"> <span class="NormalTextRun SCXW122679105 BCX0">“Hey,” she slurred as his mouth clamped onto hers. Donna savored the faint, residual notes of champagne on his breath, and she stifled a laugh at the memory of Josh’s less-than-subtle attempt to choke down toothpaste during their first sexual encounter. Those initial advances on the campaign trail had been clumsy, the relics of their friendship still in need of restoration. But now months later, their bodies were practically fused together. Not unlike this moment, for instance, with his bare, damp skin flattened against hers.       </span> </span> </p><p>
  <span class="EOP SCXW122679105 BCX0"> <span class="TextRun SCXW137442369 BCX0"> <span class="NormalTextRun SCXW137442369 BCX0">“Listen...I’m serious,” Josh continued. “The 82</span></span><span class="TextRun SCXW137442369 BCX0"><span class="NormalTextRun Superscript SCXW137442369 BCX0">nd</span> </span> <span class="TextRun SCXW137442369 BCX0"> <span class="NormalTextRun SCXW137442369 BCX0"> airborne should have been on high alert because it’s a crime of national significance to look how you did on that dance floor.” This earned him a swat on the neck as Donna began to thread her nails into his hair. "It only took 12 hours for you to abuse those Chief-of-Staff privileges," she simpered in return.   </span> </span>  </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="EOP SCXW122679105 BCX0"> <span class="EOP SCXW137442369 BCX0">"I don't know what rumors you heard, Donna. But there's more than one Chief-of-Staff in this White House, and I am no match for her power and influence," he countered sagely, to which Donna pouted her full, smooth lips in mock deliberation. "She must be <em>something</em> for the monomaniacal Joshua Lyman to surrender without a fight." Josh's pupils flared with an emotion somewhere between visceral lust and pure adoration. "She is remarkable," he confirmed. "These next four years are bright with her stamp on the administration."   </span></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="EOP SCXW122679105 BCX0"> <span class="EOP SCXW137442369 BCX0">"If I wasn't mistaken, I would accuse you of being in love with her," Donna teased as they both rallied to start this first morning of the Santos presidency. "You know...there might be some truth to that accusation," came the response which almost liquified her bones. </span></span>
</p><p>
  <span class="EOP SCXW122679105 BCX0"> <span class="EOP SCXW137442369 BCX0"><em>How am I not dreaming?</em>   </span> </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>During the series, I always wanted to see Josh and Donna interact with each other once they arrived at the inaugural ball that Josh worked so hard to convince Donna to attend. Like any committed Josh/Donna shipper, I adore that scene, and I imagine they were both quick to continue the flirting (and then some) at Santos' inaugural ball.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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